Let me just say my life is not normal. It never has been. I grew up travelling the world with my mother, Abby, sadly she passed away when I turned 11. We never stayed in one place for too long. There always was a reason for leaving, thinking back I don't remember them. Abby was an amazing mother, since we moved around so much she pretty much taught me everything. I never knew who my biological father was; he never was mentioned except on the day Abby died. Her last words were "I love you Joe". She was murdered, poisoned, ripped out of my life. I ran.

Age of 11 I was an orphan. At this stage in my life we were in Australia on the west coast. It was easy to blend in. I moved to the Perth selling pretty much everything valuable, heavy or bulky. I would be living off the streets. I lived discretely. I had one mission. Find out who killed Abby.

So Perth, what can I say. It's not that big for a capital city, but its close knit. Someone always knew someone who knew the next person. Being a stranger in Perth was difficult. For me it provided challenges, avoiding the usual methed up alcoholics, the violent rapists wandering the streets and so forth. But Perth also provided me with a family of sorts you got to know the usuals, the dealers, the pimps, those who worked for the mob. It's also where I met HIM.

Now Perth really holds no secrets. Everyone knows the mob operates the car dealerships, certain clubs, which pubs are gang related and where the bikey hangouts are. Everyone knows, no one will admit it. They operate discretely for the most part until the police decide to make an example out of someone. I bumped into Him thinking he was undercover for the police gathering information for an upcoming sting. Oh how I was wrong.

Perth is also the epicentre for many mining companies. One in particular had caught His interest. They were involved in uranium mining under the guise of iron ore mining. This uranium was being exported out but no one knew its destination. Once it hit American soil it disappeared without a trace. He had come here to investigate.

I knew Perth so well after spending six months living off the streets. A new man, with a routine of watching a mining business building was suspicious. Observing it every day for over two weeks made me curious. I began watching this man wondering what he was involved in. Robbery? Was it really worth the time? A rival company stealing trade secrets? I could believe that. So I put my mother's training to use. Pavement artist she called me. I could blend in and never be tracked. I was quiet and light on my feet. I shadowed this man mainly out of curiosity. It was rather boring but I wanted to know more. After a week I had searched his room, learnt how he liked his coffee, his walking pattern, how he moved and that he was a total slob. One night his pattern changed. He was out at night, walking towards the mining company's office.

I watched him enter, and I waited. 30 min 58seconds later he was sprinting out. I heard gun fire. The bullet hitting the glass rang out across the city. The second bullet made no impact sound. I watched Him fall. I didn't realise I was moving until too late. The shadows were my sanctuary, my livelihood, my lifeline. He was 20metres away, 10 metres away, I was by his side. Blood was staining my hands as I lifted his body. I moved swiftly. The shadows screamed for me to return. I answered their pleas dragging Him back with me.

I was strong for my age but He was heavy. If were to escape I would need another method of transporting Him back to his hotel. The blood loss was becoming severe. Forgetting about the pain He might be in I grabbed a nearby shopping trolley. It's amazing how these are always lying around.

Haste was important. Blending in was a priority. Avoiding the armed guards after Him was the objective. The hotel was 1.2km away. At a fast run roughly 10min. With Him I would be making it in 20minutes, if we were lucky. But we moved fast. I could hear the guards' footsteps, the loud clod of their steel cap boots, the clicking to metallic objects around their belts and the static coming from their radios. Perth was asleep, it was silent, and their movements were the thunder before the lightning. A warning danger was approaching.

I ran, they chased, He had passed out.

"No, no clue where he has gone."

"Keep SEARCHING!"

"Setting a 500metre perimeter."

"Need back up, no sighting"

We were 400 metres from the hotel, 300, 200.

BANG, SMASH, BANG

The bullets fired rang across the empty city. I, the only one left to flinch.

100 metres

BANG BANG BANG

"There he is"

"Last sighted 110 St George's Terrace. In pursuit"

The shadows screamed and screamed for my return, the safety of the darkness resonating through me. I returned to them. I disappeared. I was moving through the dark fluid of the night. The shopping trolley abandoned.

50 metres from the Hotel. Danger. Light. People.

30metres. We are out in the Open. Me supporting Him.

Inside the hotel. It's late. No one cares about a man being supported by a girl. We are unnoticed.

His room was the way I remembered, a mess!

My priority, the bullet wound. I improvised. I found tweezers, a hotel sewing kit, boiling water and towels. It was painstaking work. I was worried about the blood loss. My hand shook from the adrenaline pulsing through my body. The stitches were in. He was asleep. Breathing normally. No shallow breathes. I observed. Gun wounds were unpredictable.

He awoke at 2pm the next day, in pain. I was ready. I passed over the not so legal pills from a contact. He swallowed. We exchanged looks, Him taking my in for the first time, me looking for a reason to flee.

"Hello" he said

"Good morning" I replied

He went back to sleep. I stayed.

9am the next morning. I awake to running water. Room fogging up. He was awake, I had let my guard down. I mentally screamed at myself. I was stupid. I could have been killed. I didn't know this man.

Water stops. He grunts in pain.

"Hello" He says

"Good morning" I reply

"Thank you"

"Your wound needs redressing"

I apply a disinfectant, a new dressing and a waterproof bandage

"Thank you. I have seen you sometimes in the city. Just out of the corner of my eye. Never for long. You disappear to quickly to ever get a full look. I never expected you to be so young. You are good."

"I am"

"Where are your parents?"

"Dead"

"Who looks after you?"

I stare at him. My face unreadable. It's the question they all ask. Where is your guardian? It's a dangerous question to answer. Being a nobody is unsafe on the streets. However as I stared unblinking at this man I felt trusting of him. Why? I have no idea.

"I can offer protection. You saved my life. I am in debt to you. Let me give you a better life"

"Why should I trust you? I have heard that line before. I could end up dead, raped, imprisoned."

"I am not them. I am different from everyone else you have met. I am not the mob, a pimp, a drug dealer. I am the law and I am above the law. I am the person the government calls on to clean up a mess, to investigate an issue."

Well this clearly made me curious.

"Tell me a place to meet you. Give me a location, your address. Let me decide if I trust you. If I do I shall meet you there. If not I disappear onto the streets and we go our separate ways. If I am to trust you will you tell me your name?"

"Matthew Morgan"

He didn't flinch. The answer was fluid, normal. Pupils didn't dilate, breathing didn't become rapid. Was he really not lying? I got up and went to the door. Turned back and said

"Good bye Matthew Morgan."